New Years
by Kat Bee Dee
Summary: New years have come and gone. Two in particular. One spent in North Canton, and one in the Warehouse. Either remembering celebrations with biological family or one they've come to adopt as their own, these are New Year's Pete and Myka will never forget.
1. Introductions of Sorts

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Warehouse 13 or any of its original characters or plots. If I did, I can think of a certain pair of agents who would most definitely be an item._

_**Author's Note: **So you know, I absolutely despise my summary of this story. I feel like there's really no good way to explain it without it sounding dumb, so just read if you're interesting! Hope you enjoy =)

* * *

_

New Years

Pete repositions his hands on the unfamiliar steering wheel. He takes a quick glance at his speedometer before looking back to the road, which appears more like a mirage before him. Snow blows in thick gusts across the windshield. Exhaling, his shoulders hunch and slump again as he warily casts his gaze to his sleeping partner in the passenger seat. Myka's chest rises and falls slowly with each steadied breath, her tousled curls having fallen in a wayward fashion across her face. Her chin rests on her collarbone, gloved hands tucked to the sides of her grey, wool coat. Pete grins impishly, his eyes back on the old, familiar road. Were Myka in an alert state, she would be scolding him for driving at such a speed in such erratic weather conditions. However, dozing peacefully, Pete only felt his heart swell. _Just wait 'til they see you._ A smile spreads across his face.

As if hearing his thoughts, Myka murmurs incoherently, turning her face toward the passenger window and out of his view. Pete's grin only broadens. He signals and turns into an old subdivision. Half a mile down the street, he signals again and parks on the side of the street, observing the full driveway. His eyes scan the snow covered yard, a mid-sized tree stands alone in the center of it, its leave gone; snow piled meticulously on its limbs. He turns the key in the ignition and pulls it out and pockets it before unbuckling. Looking over at Myka's sleeping form; he is hesitant for a moment, not quite willing to break her peaceful slumber. His sheer excitement wins him over in the end and he reaches over and gingerly shakes her shoulder.

"Mykes, we're here," his voice is soft as he calls to her. She lifts her head, her curls mussed around her head, and she has the most perfect look of confusion situated on her face. His heart pounds and her eyes blink in the bright light of day, only purified by the snow and the bleak grey sky. Her lips pout as the cogs in her head turn, shifting into place one by one as she begins to recall where she is and what she is doing. Her wide, green eyes find him and a fatigued smile lifts the corners of her mouth, chestnut curls tumbling in face. Pete touches her face with a gentle hand, his thumb grazing her soft cheek, rouged from the cold. He tucks a curl behind her ear and she closes her eyes, smiling. "Hey there, pretty, rise and shine and meet the folks," Pete says, grinning.

She opens her eyes, her smile diminishing and now replaced by an apprehensive look in her pale eyes. Cocking her head slightly to the side, Myka pulls down the blind and scans her own face in the small mirror. Pete chortles. Though she may differ, no matter how hard _he_ looked, he could never find a blemish in that face. She looks at him narrowly out of the corner of her eye and quickly shuts the blind, slumping back in her seat. Her head falls back against the low headrest and she stares at the ceiling of the small rental car.

"You'll be fine," Pete says, setting his hand on her thigh, "I promise. They'll love you. _Almost_ as much as I do."

Myka turns her head, scrutinizing him with her gaze. He remains easily unfazed. Giving up, she sighs and stares at the grey, felted ceiling again. She finds his hand, lacing her fingers with his. "I'm nervous, Pete."

"I know. I know you are, but I've already told them so much about you! They've been waiting to meet you for a long time, Myka! You wouldn't let them down, would you?" He looks at her with his dark, playfully pleading eyes. "You wouldn't let _me_ down, would you?" He pouts his bottom lip out, giving her hand a light squeeze. She looks at him and stifles a grin and a laugh. He continues to pout. "Would you?"

"Pete!" Myka laughs, batting his shoulder, "Stop it. You're such a petulant two-year-old."

"C'mon, Mykes, give me some credit. I thought I was at _least_ eight." He flashes her his charming smile and receives an eye roll in return as she reaches for her door, only to find it locked. She presses the unlock lever to no avail, casting a glare at Pete. He grins. "Child safety."

Exhaling brusquely, her nostrils flare slightly as she cocks her head to the side, her eyes narrow on him. "Grow up."

"Give me a smooch," Pete barters in return, puckering up. Myka lightly swats his shoulder, giving a good attempt at reaching around him to unlock the doors. He blocks her easily, his broad shoulders taking up the majority of the space between the seat and the wheel without his having to put in hardly any effort in moving. She laughs, punching him lightly in the shoulder, but he refuses to desist. Exasperated, she leans forward and quickly pecks him on the lips.

"Okay, now let me out." Myka demands, her chin sticking out at him. Satisfaction radiating from him, Pete unlocks the door and watches her clamber out of the car out into the snow, her feet disappearing into a deep bank. She nearly loses her balance, snow halfway up her shins. Her horror-filled eyes find Pete as she steadies herself with the car door.

Chortling, Pete lets himself out of the car, stepping safely onto the clean, swept street. He steps swiftly around the car, making his way to the cleared walk up to the white-sided house he grew up in. Once at the cobblestone path, he stops and waits for Myka, watching, amused, as she shuts the passenger door and attempts to step out of the snow. After two steps, her feet sink into snow nearly up to her knees. She teeters back and forth, her arms flailing just as she plummets backward into the snow, nearly disappearing into it. For a moment, Pete almost laughs, and then realizes that she's nearly completely covered in powdered snow, and she can't get out. She calls his name in alarm from within her blanket of white.

Pete leaps forward, stepping into the snow himself and reaching into the Myka-sized hole in the otherwise smooth surface of the snow bank. His hands find her waist first and he feels her hands close around his forearms as he hoists her up. Her array of curls is now filled with snow, the same snow that is now down her back and in her shoes. Pete can't help but burst into laughter, despite the horrified look on her face, which in reality only added to her humorous profile. She glares at him, nostrils flaring, and punches him, somewhat hard, in the arm. "Jerk! Look at me!"

"I did," Pete laughs, reaching for her hand to lead her to the pathway. She pulls her hand out of his reach and wobbles, quickly grabbing hold of his outstretched arm. He chuckles quietly to himself as he takes a step backwards up onto the cleared cobblestone, still holding her hand firmly. She steps toward him slowly and he pulls her in to him once she is close enough for him get a safe grip on. Now standing in Pete's arms on the firm ground of the walkway, Myka lifts her gaze to meet his, thanking him silently for rescuing her. Sobering his expression to be taken seriously, though his dark, velvet eyes still glimmer at her, Pete closes the small space between them, covering her mouth with his for respectable moment. Her gloved fingers touch his face lightly, feeling his warmth even through the thin fabric covering her skin and sending shivers down his spine. She smiles into the kiss as she feels him tremble at her touch. They break away softly, and Pete's dark eyes look into hers with a certain measure of awe as he apologizes with all sincerity. "I'm sorry I laughed."

"Me too," she retaliates, swatting him lightly one last time for good measure as he brushes some snow out of her hair. Her pale eyes practically illuminate as she looks at him.

"You know, we don't usually get quite this much snow," Pete offers as a compromise, dusting the snow off of her shoulders. "In fact, I would think this weather would be more what you're used to."

Myka snorts, "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Well, if you are quite ready, m'lady, I do believe we are rather expected," Pete says in a cheap British accent, blatantly ignoring her rhetorical remark as he takes one step back and offers her his arm. Rolling her eyes at him, Myka weaves her arm through his, the corners of her mouth remaining persistent in their upward tug.

As they make their way up the brick walk, Myka's eyes skirt the area, looking up at the large white house towering before them. She moves closer to him as they walk, hoping to calm the sickly feeling ebbing in the pit of her stomach. The house looked to be what would formally be called two and a half stories high, the roof leaning into the rooms on the third story—or perhaps a large attic. The home was nearly entirely white, though black shingles peeked out from beneath the snow on the roof in a few small areas. A large holly bush climbed up the side of the house to the left of the front door, reaching nearly to the rooftop, merry red berries gleaning from the festive plant. In each of the six windows a candle had been placed, giving the edifice a Victorian air.

Leaning his head close to hers, Pete quietly reminds her, "Annie's younger, but nearly a head taller. Just…so you know. I'm not entirely sure who's here yet, either." He meets her capricious gaze, hoping to calm her nerves, but only seems to have reiterated her purpose in being worried. Placing his hand lightly on the small of her back, he amends, "Don't worry about it, Mykes. You won't look dumb, I promise. They're too excited to notice anyway."

She scowls at him as he winks at her and rings the doorbell. A feminine voice calls out from within and Pete's smile broadens. The scurrying noises of feet coming closer meet their ears until the door swings wide open, revealing a tall young woman who looked to be hardly older than twenty. Her long, nearly black hair fell in a fine curtain about her face, and large, twinkling dark eyes smiled gaily at them from beneath long, side-cut bangs.

"Pete!" she exclaims, nearly leaping out of the doorway and attacking him with a hug. She hums happily as she squeezes him for several long moments. Having dodged aside, Myka smiles nervously at the pair, in awe for a moment at how the young woman is taller even than her brother before recognizing the three inch high heels hoisting her like stilts to about an inch above the crown of Pete's head. Over his sister's shoulder, Pete grins at Myka.

"Hey there, sputnik! How's it been?" Pete greets his sister as she steps back, a grin to match his own plastered to her face.

"Don't call me that, you'll embarrass me!" she replies, her grin unfaltering as she is clearly unembarrassed. She tucks a sheet of dark hair behind her ear, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, and glances at Myka. Then says, jesting, "Pete, you cad, how rude to not introduce! Not that I don't _know_. You're Myka."

"Yep, that's me," Myka says, laughing nervously as she wrings he wrists. Feeling Pete replace his hand on the center of back, she casts of quick glance at him, gratitude filling her eyes. Then, doubting the truth of the statement just as it leaves her mouth, she says, "Pete's told me so much about you!"

"Same goes for you! I haven't heard the end of his pretentious Myka Bering for over the past two years! You've really no idea how anxious we've all been to finally meet the infamous girl who finally stole our Pete Boy's heart for keeps," she says, her grin broadening as she glances between the two.

Myka's expression stalls for a moment, puzzled. _Two years?_

"I'm Annie. Did I say that already? Pete's 'baby' sister." In the next instant, an older woman with short, salt and pepper hair steps into the open doorway. Annie turns to her quickly, looking to her mother, before smiling back at Pete and Myka. "Ma, this is Myka!"

"Inside, now. All of you," came the snappish, stagnant reply. The door opened further, beckoning them in. Annie rolled her eyes and snorted a little laugh before turning and gaining entrance with two swift steps.

"Hello to you too, Ma," Pete chortles, taking Myka's hand and stepping over the threshold of the house with her in tow. He smiles at her, giving her hand a quick squeeze before momentarily releasing it and stepping away to envelope his mother in a hug. Myka's lips curve upward into a small, stifled smile as he kisses his mom's cheek lightly and steps away. The door closes and the warmth of the house immediately rushes around them, thawing them out and bringing to their attention how numbly cold they had been. Pete's arm wraps possessively around Myka's waist as he beams at her. "Mom, this is Myka."

For a moment, the older woman just stands there, a complacent smile on her lips as she looks at the pair. Annie raises her eyebrows in amusement and grins, gushing, "Isn't she _great_?"

Exhaling, as though she had been holding her breath without realizing it, Pete's mother wipes her eye, laughing at herself. "Oh, look at me! This is embarrassing. I'm Joan, Pete's mom. I'm just…wow, my little boy grew up!"

Myka laughs, "Oh, not by a _long_ shot!" Her eyes suddenly grow wide, regretting what she had said the moment it leaves her mouth. She kicks herself inwardly, realizing how inappropriate saying something like was in front of Pete's family. They weren't in the Warehouse anymore.

A few awkward glances are exchanged, and Myka feels like shrinking away into a small ball and rolling away into a rabbit hole. She turns her face away, making a small effort to disappear. Then a sharp laughter rings out, breaking the silence, and Myka snaps her head around, seeing Annie nearly keeled over with laughter. Soon Joan is laughing too, and then Pete himself is laughing. A puzzled expression contorts Myka's face, and she forces an awkward laugh.

"Aw, bro, she has you _pegged_! You've got to keep her around, don't even _think_ about screwing this up like one of your other shindigs," Annie says, unable to contain her spurts of laughter in between her words. "Now, _she_ has got to be the best thing that's ever happened to you! 'Not by a long shot', priceless!"

Pete's laugh bellows from beside her, and he pulls her closer to him, noticing she had been slowly shrinking away. He wraps both arms around her waist and plants a big kiss on her cheek, a warmth spreading across his chest as she blushes, hiding her face close to his.

"It's true," Joan sighs, still chuckling lightly, "I raised an invariable eight-year-old."

"Good ol' Peter," Annie grins mockingly at him, giving him a firm slap on the back.

"Annette!" Pete jives back, thrusting his sister's given name back at her. He sticks his tongue out, blowing small raspberry at her.

"Point in case," Myka chimes in, grinning back at him mischievously.

Annie continues to chatter noisily, making her way into the kitchen, poking her head back out for a moment to toss Pete a cookie, which he caught easily. Myka laughs at him as he looked back her, a big 'What?' on his face. The afternoon passes pleasantly, the group eventually settling into the family room. Annie, having shucked her heels, perching herself in a large armchair, a cup of cocoa in hand; Joan sitting in a rocking chair, a warm glow of sheer happiness emanating from her; and Pete and Myka sat curled up together on the sofa, Pete leaning against the arm of the loveseat with Myka tucked into his side.

"Oh, Pete-Pete-Pete! Remember—remember that one time when we told you that if you put a—a _noodle_ in your nose that it would come out your mouth?" Annie says, howling with laughter, "And you were shoving noodle after noodle up your nose and—and you were blowing bits of noodles out your nose for _weeks_!"

The whole room roars with laughter, even Pete, just as the doorbell rings. Annie gasps and then squeals, springing from her seat and scuttling to the front door. Pete sits forward expectantly, placing his hand comfortingly on Myka's thigh in response to her nervous glance.

"Sarah! Nick! Come in, come in! Pete's here," Annie says brightly, ushering in a tall man with sandy blonde hair and a shorter woman with dark hair and eyes. Myka's last doubt is cast away as the woman, Sarah, signs to her sister, grinning from ear to ear. Sarah peeks around her younger sister, who is nearly four inches taller, her eyes falling on Myka. Her face illuminates as she walks into the living room. Pete is already on his feet to greet her with a firm hug.

"Hey, sis!" he says aloud and signs at the same time. Stepping back from their embrace, he nods and lifts his hand in a partial wave at the blonde man. "Hey, Nick."

Nick smiles and nods back, winking, "Hey, Pete Boy."

Turning, Pete extends his hand out to Myka and helps her to her feet before facing his older sister again. Signing as he talks, he says, "Sarah, this is Myka."

Myka looks at Pete's sister, her long, dark hair a little lighter than that of the other two siblings. Her face squarer and fuller, more like Pete's, unlike Annie's shallower, longer face that seemed to favor their mother. Beside Annie, Sarah seemed very short, but in reality she couldn't have been any shorter than five feet and five inches. All three of the siblings had matching sets of glowing, dark eyes, though the girls' eyes seemed to be slightly larger. All of them had a slender, athletic build, though Annie and Pete were obviously more active in their exercises; Pete with his strong upper body build, and Annie with the defined muscle build of an avid swimmer.

In the next instant, Myka realizes that she is being hugged tightly. Her own curls, along with Sarah's dark hair, press against her face. When she is finally released, Sarah is smiling brightly back at her. Sarah turns to Pete for a moment, signing. Pete laughs, and Sarah narrows her humor-filled eyes at him, gesturing for him to pass the message on. Putting his arm around Myka's waist, Pete smiles at her. "She says that you must be the most beautiful and perfect woman she's ever seen to be able to find a way to make her horrid, party boy little brother into the man she knew I could be," he says, as though admitting an unseemly truth, his eyes twinkling. "And I agree."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to review ;) I also hope my next installment won't be too long in the making! __(Also, I feel like the summary might be slightly...well, VERY cheesy. Feedback perhaps?) Thanks for reading!_


	2. Immature Overtures

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Warehouse 13 or any of its original characters or plots. If I did, Artie would bake cookies way more often._

_**Author's Note:**__ Well, I finally got a kick to continue this. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure how far to go in this chapter, so I hope it's not too short. There will (hopefully) be more. Hope you enjoy! Review if you like =)_

_

* * *

_

_One year earlier..._

Still shivering slightly from the cold, Pete hustled down the corridor leading to Artie's office, his hands jammed into the pockets of his Dart Mouth jacket. He quickly extracted on hand to throw open the tiny door over the retina-scanner and stare into the blinding red light. Listening for the audible click, the lock in the door unlatched and he quickly threw it open, leaving himself standing in the entrance to Artie's office. As usual as of late, it was nearly as cold in the Warehouse as it was outdoors; below freezing. Artie didn't seem to understand that the rest of the members of the team were not so readily adapted to the cold, which the elder man seemed to enjoy. It was quite like Claudia had stated it; _"Sheesh, Artemis Blubber Man! You gotta turn the heat up for those of us who originate in temperate biomes or else we'll freeze in this polar wasteland you've got in here. This is a friggin' icebox!" _However, her complaints seemed to get them nowhere. If anything, the Warehouse was colder than before Claudia spewed a fountain of complaints at her naturally cold-blooded mentor.

Pete looked around the deserted office area; papers were strewn everywhere and Artie's mess of maps and overcrowded bulletin board were no tidier than usual. Though the Warehouse looked like its same old self, an odd silence seemed to be hovering. Pete narrowed his eyes and surveyed his surroundings, his dark eyes darting about the room, searching for anything out of place. As the vibe settled in, he peeked through the blinds to the balcony overlooking the whole of the Warehouse.

"Claud? Mykes?" he called out. He turned around slowly, continuing to scrutinize the room with his eyes. Pete had the overwhelming sense that the two were close by. Even stronger than this, he felt a posed threat of danger. His urgency to find the pair was growing as he pivoted, his eyes flying up the spiral staircase leading to an upper landing of shelves and shelves of archival paperwork he would never read.

Just as he spotted a shadowed figure a burst of light flew at him following the sound of what sounded like a silenced cannon. The burst of purple light collided with his chest, knocking the wind out of him as it sparkled brilliantly and exploded, its force pushing him backwards at such a velocity that made him lose balance. He fell, tripping over a stack of abandoned paperwork, and landed with a thud on his back. His head ricocheted off of the hard floor, causing an instant migraine and a soft, sore spot on the back of his head that promised to be a large, swollen knot in at least an hour.

"Oh, _sweet_! I got him!" Claudia cried out in surprise, laughing. "God, that was awesome! We totally knocked his socks off, Myka!"

Pete could hear Myka laughing somewhere beyond Claudia, and it dawned on him what exactly was going on. He had been ambushed by two prankster, revenge-seeking females. Using his elbows to prop himself up, he glared at the two women cackling as they clambered down the stairs. "Ha. Ha. Sooo funny, chicks!"

"Oh, you so deserved it!" Myka laughed, extending a hand to help Pete up. He glared at her for a moment before hesitantly accepting her offer of help, though hardly leaning any of his weight into her as he hoisted himself up off of the floor. Once standing on his own two feet again, he clearly felt the throbbing in his head, contorting his face in pain and lifting his hand to feel the growing bump forming on his crown. Myka softened her gaze into a look that offered him at least a little pity, though her eyes still smiled and laughed at him.

"Aw, did we really hurt him?" Claudia said, sticking her lower lip out mockingly at Pete, who gladly stuck his tongue out at her in return. She sneered at him, laughing again and thrusting what looked like a large, toy Nerf gun into the air over head victoriously. After making a show of pulling the gun dramatically in front of her face and blowing the air over it like a character in an old western film, she put the gun in an imaginary holster at her hips and turned to him gravely. "Yep, you're one scurvy yeller, bruised banana."

"What do you call that accent? Pirate cowboy?" Pete insulted in return. Then, rubbing the back of his head, inquired, "What the heck did you shoot me with anyway?"

"Aha!" Claudia exclaimed, as though this had been the sole question she was waiting for. She held the large, black gun out for his observation. "_This_. A Claudia Donovan original, by the way. Been cooking 'er up just for you, buddy. I call it the PeTerminator."

Pete examined the gun, its beholder and creator bursting with pride and mockery. "Ha-ha. Very witty. What does it do?"

"Shoots mini fireworks," Claudia replied too quickly. Pete raised an eyebrow at her, receiving the hybrid of a smirk and a grin in return. "I've been working on it for the past few days. I had to be sure it wasn't too strong, but still had a good kick," she explained, punching a fist through the air to demonstrate 'kick'.

"Uh-huh. Well, the second person sprouting from the back of my head is in minor disagreement with the 'good' part of that kick thing," Pete retorted in a voice that mocked negotiation.

"Oh, it's all in the good holiday cheer," Claudia replied with a large grin, giving him a hearty slap on the back and watching with satisfaction as he flinched. When he narrowed his eyes on her, Claudia blew a large raspberry at him, her spit spraying over his front. She and Myka giggled, exchanging girlish looks of delight. Pete then turned her glare on his snorting partner.

"Oh sure, humor _her_ immature overtures!"

"Ooh! Immature overtures! Those are some big words, Pete-ster!" Claudia laughed, stepping away to point her gun at random objects in the room and pretend-shoot them, even adding explosion sound effects.

"C'mon Pete, it's New Year's Eve!" Myka said, her laughter subsiding. She looked over her shoulder at her redheaded friend, who was practically somersaulting across the floor in her little make-believe fighting game. When her eyes found Pete again, he was making his own dramatic show of rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, you big baby! You're fine. You take hits _way_ harder than that!"

Pete made puppy-dog eyes that could melt her heart if employed correctly; his bottom lip stuck out at her. He looked absolutely and ridiculously pathetic. He may not have known it, but Myka fully claimed him to be her own big teddybear. One she had to take care of and lug around. Such a terrible, annoying, excruciating burden. Myka grinned from ear to ear as Pete whined like a two-year-old. "But it really hurts, Mykes!"

"Like I said," Myka sighed, nodding with faux graveness, as though to affirm the information to all listeners, "You deserved it."

Scrunching his face up, Pete stuck his tongue out at her. Myka raised her eyebrows at him in return, silently challenging his maturity level. A crash came from beside them, followed by the loud explosive sound of Claudia's firework bazooka going off. Both of their eyes shot wide open, following a green firework as it whizzed across the room before exploding in a bright burst against the thick, metal door leading back out of the Warehouse. Exchanging an expression of shock, the pair of agents slowly turned to find Claudia sprawled on the floor, what was once a tall pile of papers scattered about her. Her gun lay two feet away from her body, and she scrambled to pick it up before looking at the two adults staring at her. "Oops."

"Oops!" Myka exclaimed; her forehead cinched as her eyes bore into Claudia. She looked meaningfully at Pete before shooting her daggers back at Claudia. Silence fell darkly. Myka suddenly erupted into laughter, nearly doubling over. Claudia looked from Myka to Pete, a confused expression covering her face. In the next instant, Pete was chortling as well, before his loud laughter roared out. Claudia nearly sighed with relief, letting a quiet laugh out for herself. Myka clutched her stomach as she caught her breath. "That could've been _really_ bad."

"Ahem."

They all pivoted around, their expressions suddenly solemn, to find Artie standing in the doorway. His eyes flicked between the three of them; from Myka, whose round eyes were the size of quarters, to Pete, whose hand was frozen on the back of his head and his mouth agape, to Claudia, who was failing miserably in her attempt to nudge a large gun behind a not-so-large stack of papers. "What—_what_ could have been really bad?"

The trio instantly began sputtering all at once.

"Claudia fell—"

"I tripped—"

"Claud…firework…thing—"

Claudia and Myka turned to stare at Pete in disbelief at his stupidity. Pete threw his arms into the air in surrender.

"Doesn't matter," Artie cut in, waving off the ensuing bickering. Stepping across the papers Claudia had knocked over, he made his way to his garbled desk and set his carpet bag down to extract two manila folders. He turned and shoved the two files in Pete and Myka's direction. "You have stuff to do."

_One year earlier…_


End file.
